The Dragons of Argonath (8 page)

The emperor nodded slowly. "Kadein is even mightier than Marneri, but it is toward Marneri that they cast their anger, not Kadein."

"Ryotwa has barely a tenth of the population of Kadein. To us there can be no competition. Instead we focus our envy on Marneri. It is not a charitable trait in our people, I fear."

"Indeed, Ambassador, it is something we must overcome. Ryotwa and Vo are the smallest city-states in land area, but they serve our cause well, nonetheless. Their folk have always been sailors, and they maintain strong links with the folk of the Isles."

"Absolutely, Your Majesty. Between Ryotwa and Cunfshon there is greater traffic than with any city other than Kadein. Many of our leading families have their roots in the Isles, more than in any other city, I believe. This, in part, is what drives our animus against Marneri. Ryotwans feel somewhat separate from the rest of the Argonath. We are linked to Cunfshon and the oceans rather than to Kenor and the western lands."

"In Cunfshon they hold Ryotwa in high regard. The 'trusty' city they call you. Ryotwa with its grey stone towers across the sea, the eternal friend of Cunfshon."

"Long may our two cities reign over the Bright Sea that lies between them."

The emperor pressed his hands together. "And so, the opinion of the people is against Marneri, rather than in favor of the secessionists of Aubinas."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Ryotwa feels independent in its own way, and we see Marneri as too overweening. On the other hand, there is no great love here for the grain factors, and it is widely understood that it is the grain factors who really seek independence for Aubinas. Still, things are seen through the prism of our dislike of the arrogance of Marneri."

"And thus King Ronsek must seem to maintain neutrality of a sort."

"Certainly, yes, Your Majesty. The king will tell you himself that he wishes he could be more publicly supportive of Marneri. He believes, however, that he must strike a carefully modulated tone of neutrality in the struggle. Ryotwa has historically sided with attempts to break up the provincial structures of the nine ruling cities. Ryotwa never received its fair share of lands. Blue Stone, for instance, should be part of Ryotwa, but it turns to Marneri instead, although Marneri is five days' journey from here. Thus our king must hew to that tradition; it is expected of him."

"Yes, of course, the web of tradition is a necessary part of our civilization. Still, innovation can be just as rewarding sometimes. Perhaps this will prove to be an opportunity to press for change. Ryotwa believes itself slighted by the greater glory of Marneri, which outshines all the other cities, even Kadein. Oh, Kadein is the big city, the cosmopolis of the empire, but Marneri is the heart of our great enterprise in the Argonath. And let us make no mistake, Ambassador, for I know you are a perceptive man, it is Marneri that carries the banner of the empire. Marneri that has given the most and fought the hardest. Now, that said, Ryotwa too has given in generous measure of her resources. I have sailed in Ryotwan ships, and there are none finer.

"Still, the glory has shone on Marneri so much in recent times that folk in Ryotwa have succumbed to envy. We are all but mere men and women, making our way through the world as best we can with the guidance of the Mother's Hand. We can do no more than that. Envy is ignoble, but we are weak. We can do no better.

"But we can try! Damn it all, we can still try! We can ask Ryotwans to confront this feeling in their hearts. We can say, stop for a moment and think of what Marneri has given to our sacred cause. For you and I know, Ambassador, that no other city has given so much from such a small population. They have raised two legions, and built almost as many great ships as Ryotwa! And those legions of theirs have handled more than their share of the fighting."

Koring had to agree. "True, Your Majesty, I know, but the people have their prejudices."

"The people can be challenged. Their prejudice is ignoble and beneath their dignity. We shall encourage them to try and rise above it."

The emperor smiled and folded his arms across his chest.

"If the people of Aubinas seriously wanted independence, then I would work to give it to them. Let us be clear. The strength of our empire rests on its elasticity. We must rule with flexibility. No great province should remain bound to a city if it feels it would be better off independent. Provinces should love their capital city. The capitals must love the empire. That is the only way we can be different from any other power in the world. That is the only way we can hope to defeat our monstrous enemy in Padmasa.

"But it is not the people of Aubinas who wish independence. It is the grain magnates. They have whipped up every grievance they could find, and still they have support from no more than one third of the people. The rest are terrified. The grain magnates wish to free themselves from Imperial controls. They would like to hold grain off the market and force up prices. I can have no sympathy for them. In a time of war, with our very existence constantly threatened by the power in Padmasa, we cannot indulge their desire for further augmentation of their wealth."

"Your Majesty will be pleased to know that in Ryotwa there is a significant group that shares your thinking. The Ship Builders Guild is with you, of course, but so are others with less obvious interests at stake. Opinion can be swayed."

"Exactly, my dear Ambassador Koring. This progress is long overdue. I think we can reawaken the people's understanding of our real problems. They will see that we love them, that we come among them to show them that we are men, as they are, but men working all their lives in their service. That it is service which is the spirit of the empire. We show them that, and they will turn back the minions of the grain magnates."

Eventually, however, even Pascal Iturgio Densen Asturi had had enough of political talk. He thanked Koring and sent him back out to ride his horse. Pascal drew the curtains and put his feet up on the farther cushion and went to sleep with a brief prayer.

Lessis remained silent in the corner. Her thoughts were far away, reviewing what she remembered from a chilling visit to a house in the suburbs of Cunfshon. Ribela had sent her to meet with a prince and princess from the western lands, by name Evander and Serena. They brought a grim warning and spoke a name that had not darkened the air of Ryetelth in many an aeon, the name of the Deceiver, the Dominator of Twelve Worlds, Waakzaam the Great.

The house they'd been given was a pleasant, two-story place, built of the grey stone they built everything with in Cunfshon. There was an herb garden and a curving drive up to the front steps.

A curious little man, a midget no more than three feet tall, had met her at the door. It had been an astonishing experience, she grinned at the memory. He had been immaculate, hairless, with a noble set of fine features. He moved like a dancer, and he treated Lessis very rudely, remarking in a loud voice that she had no business coming to the front door of the house, since she was dressed like a servant and should go to the servants' entrance to be let in. Vexed, she had responded with a spell and discovered that it was hard to keep it in place. The little man was a magical construct of quite fantastic power. Awed just a little, Lessis had given up any attempt at reining it in. She had to explain twice who she was and what she wanted. The amazing tiny man had then made her wait in the hall while he disappeared to find Prince Evander.

Fortunately for Lessis, Princess Serena appeared after a few minutes, having been warned by someone else that there was a visitor in the hall. She explained to Lessis that the servant was an unusual little person, much older than he looked and very cranky. Lessis had accepted the explanation and passed off his rudeness with a laugh. Her awe had given way to intrigue. How had these young princelings from Kassim come to possess such a fantastic creature for a servant anyway?

The princess, a laughing brown-skinned girl with handsome eyes, led her down a passage of polished brick, through a small garden, and into a pleasant whitewood room that looked out over a pond covered with lily pads.

The room was furnished in lovely old wooden things from the Cunfshon Foresters workshops. On the wall was a painting by one of the famous Czardhan painters, possibly Giltoft.

The prince had been working on a watercolor of the paddies and the pond. It rested on an easel to one side. Lessis could see that the prince had some skill with the brush.

They had sat there, while a more cooperative servant came in with some hot kalut and a selection of small cakes. The prince and the princess had then told their story.

In a few moments her long-dreamed-of retirement had been laid to rest. Such a mad saga was related that she was by turns torn by sadness, ripped by pity, and then left frightened, more afraid than she had been in a long time.

Swayed by the rhythmic motion of the coach, Lessis murmured a prayer to the Great Mother for her guidance and put her head back and let sleep claim her. The coming day would be another nightmare as the emperor put himself about in the city of Ryotwa. Security would be fragile, an assassin might strike at any moment, Lessis would be on duty all day. Some sleep now would be a good investment.

Sleep ended with a sudden eruption of noise. A tremendous crack broke along the bottom of the coach. It came to a staggering stop amid a mad tangle of rearing and screaming horses, and the emperor pitched off his seat with a muffled curse. A fierce green light beat down from the sky above them. Lessis noticed that it threw stark shadows, even inside the coach. Men were shouting all around them.

"What the hell is this!" roared an enraged Pascal as he struggled to extricate himself from the space between the seats. Wide-eyed in apprehension, Lessis opened the door, her other hand resting on the long knife hidden within her robe. The light shone down on them as if from a giant's lantern. Arrows flashed past, she heard them distinctly through the rest of the noise. Then, ten yards distant, she glimpsed things approaching at a lumbering run, huge creatures like nothing she had ever seen before. At first glimpse they looked like bears, but then she noticed they had human heads with faces like those of pigs. One of them was clearly carrying a sword.

She pulled back. Questions crowded in her thoughts. Was this a new kind of troll? And how was the light projected? And from where? She looked up for a moment into a blinding dazzle that shone down from nearby rocks. Then she shut the door again and turned back to the emperor.

The other side!

He needed no more warning. Opening his door, they tumbled quickly out.

There was fighting all around them, more screams, the ring of steel on steel. Men rode past at the gallop. The driver of the coach fell in front of Lessis with a thud; an arrow jutted up from his throat.

The emperor had his short sword out and ready. Pascal had drilled every week for most of his life in anticipation of an emergency like this. He was ready to fight. Lessis, however, was only concerned with getting away. She knew that this ambush had to be by an overwhelming force; nothing else would have been contemplated by their enemies. They had to hide, then make an escape from the scene.

And how was that damned light projected? It was so bright, it hurt the eyes and threw shadows far away across the moor.

Just then the coach rocked under a terrific, crunching blow. The next moment it was turned over. The horses screamed as they struggled in their harness. Lessis tugged on the emperor's arm, who came, unwillingly. The bearlike things were smashing the coach with huge hammers. The blazing light made them seem like giant men, burly-chested with fierce, hog-like features.

A trooper spurred forward and thrust his lance home into one of the monsters. It coughed angrily, bent double, and dropped to its knees. Imps came out of the dark to thrust spears into the trooper when his horse pulled up. He screamed and tumbled, and the imps swarmed over him. The hammers continued to smash the coach. If anyone had been inside, they would have been broken like an egg.

More imps came screaming past, bandy-legged imitations of men, wielding swords and round shields, products of an evil magic. The emperor ducked a blow, whacked an imp to the ground with his shoulder, and then stabbed down with his sword to end it. Another was about to attack the emperor from behind when Lessis thrust her knife into its back. It gasped, straightened, and then sagged. She toppled it away from herself.

Two of the emperor's guards, Thorn and Blade, had materialized beside them, with swords drawn and eyes bright. Blade was a giant, a head taller than most men, exuding strength. More imps came up but were almost instantly slain.

For a moment there was an empty space around them.

"Run!" said Lessis.

The emperor stared at her hard-faced, eyes questioning her tone.

"Your Majesty, you must not die here. To those rocks, we have to get away."

Pascal's eyes were wild, and his mind filled with dangerous thoughts, but Lessis's words struck home. The empire could not afford to lose its emperor at this crucial moment in history. He had to accept the need for self-preservation above all else.

"Where?" he croaked.

A trooper shrieked behind them as one of the bearlike things ripped his head from his body.

"That way, to the rocks!"

Lessis almost tripped over a rope set at knee-height across the road. There were more, arranged down the road. So that was how the coach had been brought to such a dead stop. These huge creatures had pulled the ropes up under the coach as it rolled by. The horses had fallen, the wheels had jammed.

A dismounted trooper ran by, blood running down his face. His forehead was cut wide open, to the bone; the blood had stained his vest bright red. Pascal put out a hand to steady him. The trooper's look flashed wide in recognition.

"Your Majesty," he exclaimed, and fell in beside them.

They slipped farther away, out of the pool of light. The main body of imps had missed them in the confusion. Lessis glanced back. The coaches had been smashed to flinders, and there was still fighting up and down the road. About a hundred feet above the scene on the opposite slope among the rocks, several figures crouched around the source of the powerful light.